


Two Could

by Eilinelithil



Series: Lover's Leap [10]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Pirates, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilinelithil/pseuds/Eilinelithil
Summary: Belle and Rumple jump into the bodies of two pirates. When the King's Navy blockade the harbor, the decision must be made to run the gauntlet, or wait out the siege, but two captains seek another way, and seal their alliance in a way that only pirates could.Nominated in the 2021 Espenson Awards for the Best Smut: Romance category.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: Lover's Leap [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863370
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	Two Could

**Author's Note:**

> One of the prompts from the AU-gust list, however since it's no longer August, and I didn't get through the whole list, I will continue to the end of the list to complete the series.

The captain of the Dark Heart sat in the shadowed corner by the fireplace, eyes turned to the center of the room. There all the other captains were gathered, only the Dark Heart’s skipper sat apart, watching. Waiting. The first mate sat at the ‘captains table.’ That too was the way it had always been done. It also had the double sided coin of finding out what kind of captain the mate would make _and_ providing a loophole should something be decided upon with which the captain didn’t agree.

Tonight the argument was about the blockade. A full gathering of the Captains’ Council of Nine, and _still_ they couldn’t decide whether they were going to run said blockade, or wait them out.

On the one hand, they had the advantage. _They_ were on land, in dock, and had food a-plenty, at least until the local merchants and peasants alike conveniently _forgot_ which ships kept them safe from marauding vessels - other than their own - for ten months of a year, and for most of the years in a decade.

The authority’s fleet of ships was anchored off the coast, blocking the harbor entrance so that the pirates couldn’t take to open waters. The king’s ships would only have on board what provisions they had been able to acquire at their last port to sustain their crews… and there was likely scant little of that, and in the Captain’s opinion, and ill fed crew was an ill mannered crew, far more likely to mutiny.

The Dark Heart’s captain picked up the tumbler of what passed for rum in these parts, rough and acrid, but good enough for what it was intended, and took a sip, watching the only other Captain at the table who had yet to speak.

* * *

The Captain of the Black Rose sat back, listening to the arguments going back and forth, going over the same old ground time and time again. It was simple really. They either ran the blockade, or they sat out the siege. None of them really wanted to _do_ that at this time of the year, when most of the traders were crossing the seas from exotic lands with valuable cargo, which of course was precisely _why_ the kings forces had set up the blockade when and where they had.

Missing a season’s plunder would mean hardship for some, and living off the profits of previous years for others. Never a good idea. But then neither was running the blockade. They were out manned, and certainly outgunned. They’d have to have a good wind and a whole chest of good luck on their side. Either that or some kind of miracle.

Having heard enough bickering, and useless chatter, he stood, tipped a nod to those that noticed, and moved toward the door, leaning heavily on the cane he used to balance himself on land. He had decided to take himself back to his ship where he could _maybe_ work out what was the best thing for the Black Rose to do.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the small figure in the shadows until she was upon him; until she’d pulled him into the darkness, threw him against the stone wall so hard the breath was knocked out of him, and then kicked away his cane, pinning him in place with a small, but obviously sharp knife at his throat, and fingers squeezing, vice-like, around his balls.

“Well this is quite the inconvenience,” he hissed, arrogant in spite of his position, trying to slide a hand, unnoticed behind his back to where he kept his dagger.

Her lower hand tightened, and the knife twitched against his throat.

“Now, now, Captain,” she murmured, “Best you be keeping both hands where I can see ‘em… or I won’t be held responsible for my own.”

“What is it you _want_ , dearie,” he asked, his teeth all but grinding together as he spoke.

“For you to pay a visit… a private parlay with the captain of the Dark Heart,” she answered, and he saw her cock an eyebrow at him.

“Well now,” he purred, “You didn’t have to go to all _this_ trouble to ask me to dinner. All you had to do was… ask.”

With the last word he moved faster than he hoped she would anticipate, one hand grasping the wrist of her hand holding his family jewels and pressing against it until she let go, the other pushed the knife away from his throat. He wasn’t quite unscathed, receiving a small nick to both his neck and the side of his hand, but neither was of much importance as he gained his freedom. Twisting her wrists, he managed to turn her until he was pressed at her back, holding her in an almost-embrace against himself. He squeezed her knife hand until she relinquished the blade to him, and held her close as she struggled angrily against him.

Under other circumstances, he would have relished the struggle and let it continue, but he had to admit, other interests were piqued more than a little rough and tumble in a darkened alleyway - though it would have been a pleasant diversion from the evening’s frustrations - so after only a moment he released her, pushing her away enough that he could raise his hands between them in a gesture of peacemaking as she whirled to face him. Then he tossed her knife up into the air and caught it again by the blade. Then he offered the hilt to her, with a flourishing bow.

“Shall we?” he invited her to lead the way.

* * *

She should have been furious, to allow herself to be so easily bested. Truth be told though, she had enjoyed the little tousle. It had been far too long since anyone had held her that way… far too long since she’d felt the kind of hardness that had pressed against the small of her back as he’d held her.

She gave him an answering curtsy as she took back her blade, but answered, “After you. Y’ know the way to the docks.”

She glared at him as he chuckled, but began to move none the less, and as he moved to pass her, she fell into step with him - as much of a show of faith as she would allow. For now.

Once they reached the docks, she nodded toward the ship at the farthest end, though she doubted he needed to be told which ship was which. Not if he were half the captain she thought him to be.

The Dark Heart was small and sleek. Only double masted, with sails that even when furled, as they were now, shone with the deepest sheen of a red that was so dark that it was almost black. The wood of the ship itself was like pitch, and adorned with gold and blood red along the gunwale and the planking just below, and all along the bowsprit what appeared to be carven hearts dripped twinkling gemstone droplets - facsimiles of blood.

“She’s a beauty, and no mistake,” he said, and she heard the admiration in his voice.

“Tougher than she looks,” she answered. “Make no mistake about _that_ either, Captain.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mistress…?” She raised an eyebrow at him instead of answer his unspoken question. Then she cocked her head toward the gangplank, the back of her neck prickling as she led him aboard.

The crew still aboard and on deck all jumped too as she set her finely booted foot aboard the seasoned wood, and she called out to one of them, “Captain aboard, Daniel?”

He looked at her askance for just a moment and then behind her at the visitor she brought in tow.

“Be around, Miss. Be around,” he answered.

“Best look lively then,” she shot back. “Wouldn’t want to get caught lallygaggin’ now would ye.”

He started, then bent to his previous task of tending the lines, and she turned once more to the captain of the Black Rose.

“We’ll go somewhere more comfortable to wait,” she informed him, and began walking, confident that he would follow. He hadn’t come with her for his health after all. Parlays between two captains often ended in… a far less peaceful way.

Once they crossed the deck and got to the door of the captain’s cabin, she reached for the small pocket sewn into the front of her bodice, nestled against the curves of her breasts which were contained and her cleavage enhanced by the corset she wore beneath her dress. From within she drew out a small, silver key, which she fit into the lock and turned before she pushed open the door.

She stood against it, with the sturdy wood of it at her back, all but swinging a little back and forth, her lower lip between her teeth as she looked the captain of the rival ship up and down. Seeing him, for the first time, in better light than the alley outside of the inn.

He was short, for a man, only a little taller than she, his jaw was chiseled and his nose a little sharp, but his eyes were the rich caramel of rye, and were bright and hard as the glint of ice within a perfectly mixed drink. Speaking of which…

She sashayed across to where bottles of liquor graced the top shelf of a cabinet that was _always_ just a fingertip too high for her reach, and turned a quizzical look the captain’s way and asked, “Drink?”

“I thought we were here to wait for your captain,” he answered, flicking the tails of his unbuttoned jacket behind him as he sat on the inlaid couch opposite the cabinet. She’d noticed his manner of dress before. He dressed like a gentleman, not like a sailor, a suit of unrelieved black beneath an equally dark overcoat. When he stretched out his hand she caught the glint of gold and black at his wrist, from the cuff links he wore - black roses to match the buttonhole at his breast. Something in her belly twisted with want.

“And so we are,” she told him, leaning both of her hands on the cabinet behind her as she added, “but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a little hospitality while we wait, now, is there?”

She felt him watching her for a long moment. Felt his eyes undressing her as much as she had peeled the mask of the gentleman from around him.

“Very well,” he said at last, “Whiskey.”

“Whiskey?” she raised a surprised eyebrow, “Not rum, Captain?”

“Rum is for peasants,” he all but snarled.

She chuckled as she turned her back to him to reach for the bottle. Her fingers barely grazed the smooth glass when she felt his heat at her back, pressing close as he reached along the same path. His arm lay atop hers, his fingers brushed hers aside.

“Allow me,” he said quietly, and his breath blew softly against the side of her temple, and tailed like a touch down her neck. She shivered.

“Gallant,” she murmured, “A true gentleman’s gentleman.”, 

She turned, still trapped between him and the cabinet, and with a coquettish smile reached to pluck the bottle from his hand as he took _his_ turn to chuckle.

“Hardly a gentleman,” he said as he leaned forward, pressing close against her to whisper the words into her ear.

She ran her free hand up over his chest to his shoulder, almost purring as he stayed close for longer than was entirely necessary.

“Well, well, Captain,” she murmured. “I feel we may have something between us… after all.”

She moved her hips slightly side to side, letting the movement caress the hardness she felt pressing against her, teasing deliberately even as she used the hand at his shoulder to push him back; give her enough space to turn again and pour a measure of whiskey into each of two glasses.

“Who would think you had such… literary knowledge, Miss…?” he rumbled back at her, even as he moved away. When she turned with the drinks in hand, she saw that he had returned to his seat on the ship’s only, and infamous, comfortable, couch. She glided closer, to take a place on a large chair she’d had upholstered with the best blue and yellow silk cushions, toeing off her calfskin boots, and drawing her feet up beside her.

“Oh, I think you’ll find me full of surprises,” she answered, chuckling slightly and watching as he watched her dart out her tongue to catch a stray drop of liquor that was slowly making its way down the glass. She did so hate to waste good whiskey.

“I should warn you,” he said, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, almost a mirror of her action. “I’m not an easy man to surprise.”

“Perfect,” she whispered.

She watched as he brought the glass to his lips, took in a sip of what she knew to be a fiery liquid, and wondered, out of nowhere, if he would be equally as volatile. 

A heavy silence fell then, as each occupant of the captain’s cabin appeared to become lost in their own thoughts. After a while she tired of playing the waiting game and sought to move it on.

“You’re not for trying the blockade then?” she asked off hand with a casual sip of her whiskey. “Waiting it out and hoping for better odds, or did you have… another way?”

“I think,” he said with a hint of irritation in his voice, That’s something I should discuss with your captain, don’t you think?”

Deliberately, she set down her glass, and after unfolding from her chair, crossed the room just as slowly as she had before, and once close enough, plucked the drink from his fingers. In the next instant, she tossed back the contents of the tumbler, then threw the vessel to one side before raising her skirts to allow her to climb into his lap, and push him against the back of the couch.

“And _I_ thought you were a smart man,” she said, running her fingers through his hair.

He moaned softly, and she smiled inwardly, she had him; had him right where she wanted him to be.

“Ah, but who’s to say I’m not?” he asked, and instead of pulling away, drew her closer still, and ran his fingers into her hair, drawing her head down, his lips barely apart from hers as he said, “Captain.”

* * *

He’d known for _certain_ that she was more than just a captain’s wench the moment they set foot on the docks, though he’d _suspected_ the moment he’d met her in the alley. It explained a lot; explained why the Dark Heart always seemed to be one step ahead of every other ship in the area. Why they always seemed to get the better end of any deal, or the lions share of any treasure; the most successful of any joint venture.

A perfect ally.

A deadly enemy.

No one in these parts would ever suspect such a beautiful woman could command such a ship… such a crew; falling for the ruse that the grizzled old runt of a man who sat at the Captain’s Table was the skipper of the Heart.

“Well then,” she chuckled and brushed her lips against his as she spoke. “What are we to do… Captain?”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer, not with words at least, before she crushed her mouth against his, her tongue like a hot knife along his lips until he allowed her entry, to plunder his mouth, the taste of whiskey on the breath they shared as she took him in a kiss of unparalleled passion.

His already straining cock hardened still further and pushed against the heat of her, drawing a moan from her that left his lips tingling as she threw back her head. Her long hair cascaded over his hands that lay flat against her muscled back.

He wasted no time, knowing a pirate’s whims were as fickle as the wind, and wanting to take _full_ advantage of these moments; discover what she proposed… seal the deal. He trailed hot, open mouthed kisses down over her neck, over her chest and the swell of her breast, pushed up by her bodice; let his tongue trail along her cleavage, tasting her - salt and roses.

“Another way,” he murmured against her skin, between kisses.

“…always Leviathan’s Lair,” she suggested, her fingers tugging and pulling at buttons, trailing lower between them.

“Never make it,” he growled, and impatient with the laces of her corset, flicked the bodkin from the sheath at his wrist, and sliced them through, then cupped a breast to lift it free; took the hard peak her nipple had become into his mouth; suckled fervently.

She shook her head, he assumed in disagreement, for the moan she let out, and the way her fingers tightened in the fabric of his, now unfastened, shirt did not at all suggest that she was not in accord with his actions.

“Two could… each guiding the other,” she gasped, and squirmed in his lap, making him twitch; ache for her.

“…Trust you?” he growled against the curve of her breasts as he abandoned one for the needful nub of the other, trusting she would understand the words that were not spoken.

“…way… must trust you.”

He felt the confining tightness of his pants go slack, and then gasped against her skin as her firm grasp curled around his scalding length.

“Either that,” she released him in the next moment, only to cup his face in her hands, and bring his mouth to hers again, and when she was done with the heated hollow of his mouth, she finished, “or we _rot_ in this hell hole with the other fools!”

* * *

He was hot, hard and needful in her hand, and the thought sent a thrill of intense desire to the core of her. She dripped with need. Her thighs, where they pressed against him still, were sticky with her juices.

“Never one for rot,” he growled against the shell of her ear, nipping at her lobe, even as he wrapped his arms securely around her and pushed to his feet.

She wrapped her thighs around him, pushing against the liquor cabinet as they lurched sideways, his leg unsteady without his cane.

Seeming impatient, either with the delay in claiming what he wanted, what they _both_ wanted, he swept the shelf of the cabinet clear of its contents, glass tumblers breaking against the floor where they fell, and set her on the edge of it, tugging her closer, pushing at her thigh.

She parted them, wanton, eager; took his hand and drew it higher, guided his fingers to her soaked quim and let out a soft cry as he understood and pushed his fingers inside of her, the pad of his thumb drawing circles around her clit. She reached to where his steel cock pressed against the softness of her thigh and stroked the length of him, teasing, spreading the wetness she found at the eye over the head of him, growling softly at the stifled cry he gave.

She reached lower, cupped the heat of his balls, full with want of her, in her small hand, squeezing just enough to draw another soft cry from him that gathered her rising pleasure into a bright arrow that aimed at her core. Not yet… not yet… She wanted him inside of her before she let go; before she reached for release, and so she pushed at him, at the hand - the fingers - that were working her toward her peak… thrusting in and out of her. She released him from her grasp, then nodded behind him, toward the hard, high bed that was set within the bay window of the cabin.

He nodded in response, taking another lurching step with her still wrapped around him, wet against him, her skirts gathered at her waist, his pants open. They hit the half wall, half glass of the bay at the side of the bed, and moaning, unable to wait to join with him she reached up to grasp the chain on which she often hung the lantern, and wrap one hand in it.

With the other she reached down again, guided him to her, sliding him back and forth between her swollen lips before settling the hot, wide head of him against her entrance. There with a terrible madness in her at her own denial, she rasped, “Deal or no deal, Captain?”

“Leviathan’s Lair?”

“Leviathan’s Lair,” she confirmed.

There was a breath… still and silent, a moment that existed everywhere and nowhere, both at the same time where they held, locked at the pinnacle before either of them moved again.

“Deal,” he breathed.

She kissed him, hard and suggestive. Her tongue possessing his mouth as she grasped his behind and urged him to take her, giving a soft cry of want realized as he thrust inside of her, taking her hard - just as she wanted it - against the cabin’s bay window.

She wrapped her thighs more tightly around him, urging him on with breaths of encouragement, of need.

“Yes!”

Delicious friction gathered everything they conjured between them into a bright rod that pierced the both of them, sending her heart beating with a frantic pulse, her mind whirling, a dervish. Driving her to greater madness.

* * *

His head swam, his groin felt such delicious fire, and a greater sensation began gathering, singing in his balls, seeping into every muscle to tighten them all; set them trembling with weakness and filled with confident strength, both at the same time

“Captain,” he gasped, and she took his mouth again in a searing kiss.

“Yes,” she hissed as she broke the kiss. “Let go… let me feel you… Come…! Fill me…!”

Her words, her movements against him - the way she dug her fingernails into his ass and urged him to take her harder, faster, broke his resolve, and ignited, with a cry that hummed through the whole of him he came, thrusting and spurting into her hot and thick, drawing a cry from her as she teetered and then fell, shattering with him, and grinding against him with each pulse of her muscles around him.

He felt as though he had given her his soul, and unable to stand any longer, he toppled the two of them to the bed… somehow still inside of her, and sank his head down onto her shoulder, breathing hard into her neck.

* * *

He ran his fingers through her hair as she lay her head against his chest. It was as damp with perspiration as was his body, and where they had joined their mingled salty fluid lay testament to their alliance.

He tipped his head backwards, as did she, to watch through the window; gaze back toward shore, and the burning brands still floating on the water; pirate and king’s navy ship alike receding into the distance as _they_ drew further and further away from Leviathan’s Lair, their ships now side by side as they cruised toward the open waters, and the raiding that awaited them into the morning.


End file.
